


Seen ✓

by dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cell Phones, F/M, Fluff, a little bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26014972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba/pseuds/dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba
Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	1. You Sure Know How To Fuck Me Up On A Friday Night

_ Y/n |  _ **_Sam_ **

The road to independence is uphill, and Y/n knows this better than anyone. She’s done it all. She’s gone through jobs at a similar speed with which she goes through books, worked two or more of them, while also studying for college… She knows how it works, and it’s really fucking difficult to balance emotional baggage the size of a city, an underage sister and college, while also trying to keep, not only yourself, but another person, alive, under a safe roof with food in your stomachs.

Currently, she’s only working one job, at a dive bar owned by a friend of a friend as a waitress.

It’s a difficult job, and Y/n has struggled with it, but the hardest part is not the endless knowledge one needs to mix drinks –on the nights Joel takes time off and she has to take his spot behind the bar- or the carrying up to twenty pounds of glasses and drinks and delivering them at the right table without soaking herself or anyone else with copious amounts of alcohol. Any minimum wage worker will tell you the same thing- clients of any kind fucking suck. Especially if you’re a young woman at a dive bar after midnight.

Another thing she’s struggled with is not having too much money, which is why she’s needed multiple jobs in the past, so she has to use public transport- buses specifically, to go to and from work. And that is exactly where she finds herself, a couple hours after midnight, at her bus stop, five minutes from the bar, when she finds a phone which, unbeknownst to her, will flip her world upside down.

It sits on the pavement of the bus stop, limp and sad. The screen is cracked a significant amount, and for a second she figures someone got rid of it and was too much of an asshole to throw it in the trash. But the second that thought crosses her mind, the screen lights up with a concerning text.

**_dude where the fuck are you?!_ **

The contact reads “Sam”, and Y/n stands over the phone staring at it. She’s concerned. What if the phone’s owner is in trouble? The device may have fallen from their pocket on the pavement and cracked because they were running from someone and never made it home, and now whoever is texting them is worried for their well-being. Anxiety grips her heart.

It’s instinct that brings her to kneel down and pick it up. She can’t possibly know when the owner lost it, or how long the phone has been sitting there, but there’s an overwhelming urge to contact this  _ Sam  _ person and let them know what’s going on. Of course, the voice in Y/n’s head tells her that this all could just be a product of her anxiety, but it beats leaving it there and having it be stolen by a passerby.

Whatever, right? Best case scenario, she contacts the owner, who is perfectly safe and sound, and they take their phone back. She’s not really planning to pocket it. It’s fairly damaged anyways. Her own three year old, beat-up, 100$ phone is in better condition.

The bus arrives, and Y/n picks up the phone and boards it.

As she sits in her usual seat in the back, alone in the bus apart from an elderly man asleep with his head on a window and a cap on his head near the front, she starts speculating, eyes glued to the black device in her hands. Who’s the owner? Who is Sam to them? Perhaps a partner? A friend? How did the owner lose their phone? Why would this Sam sound so concerned, and most importantly, is the owner okay?

The heavy weight of dread weighs her chest at the thought of the phone’s owner being in trouble and without a phone. She must contact Sam immediately.

_ Hey, is this Sam? _

As she awaits for a response, her curiosity is  _ killing her. _ The intrigued part of her, reasons that she should snoop, it’s alright, she’s only looking for more information about the owner. Like whether or not they’re a woman or a man- which, sadly, matters when you’re walking alone in dark streets like the ones around this area- and perhaps their age –because, again, it matters if they are a teenager or a forty-year old adult.

The lack of passcode indicates someone older, with nothing to hide, or perhaps someone less technologically savvy, again, someone who may not be very young. The lockscreen is the most popular Led Zeppelin icon, and she instantly respects their music taste, and the home screen is some generic western movie from the 90s with Clint Eastwood. The chances of this belonging to someone younger further decline.

There’s a grand total of four downloaded apps in the phone. There’s an email app, a scrabble app, a microphone recorder and a dating app, no other sign of social media. Someone over 18 years old, definitely.

Soon, she’s tapping on the dating app, and opening their profile page.  _ Holy shit _ , she thinks.

A guy, the tall, dark and handsome kind. Spiky hair and a smolder-like smile, sharp edges everywhere on his face apart from his gentle, olive-shaped and  _ colored  _ eyes. His lips are full, his nose straight, and his eyelashes long, dark and thick. He’s a real-life dreamboat, the kind you see in movies and Cosmopolitan articles about sex. He’s sitting on a black muscle car, a Chevrolet, with his thick thighs barely contained in blue jeans.

_ Dean Winchester, _ the app writes.  _ 28\. Male. Likes: old cars, beer, hard rock, westerns,  _ she figured that much _ , bacon burgers. Dislikes: pop music, modern horror movies, uncomfortable beds. Not looking for anything serious, just a night of fun ;),  _ and wow, okay, he sounds a bit like a dick. The very Red-blooded American Male kind, that enjoys BBQs and winking at women from across the bar. She’s had enough of those during her line of work; she can recognize them from a mile away.

Whatever the case, her moral compass couldn’t allow her to pass up on the opportunity to possibly help someone in trouble. She ignores her urge to roll her eyes, and scrolls a little, finding other pictures of the same guy, when suddenly two separate notifications appear, the phone itself vibrating. One is from the app, which has now received a picture from this girl,  _ Jamie _ , one which she certainly doesn’t plan on opening, seeing as it’s followed by a winky face. The second one is from Sam.

**_jesus dean how drunk are you_ **

**_yes it’s sam. your brother? remember?_ **

_ No, this isn’t Dean, uh. _

_ My name is Y/n. Your brother lost his phone at a bus stop, near a bar. _

**_i should’ve figured. dean rarely ever uses punctuation._ **

**_nice to meet you i guess_ **

_ Nice to meet you, too. _

_ So basically, uhm, I thought you might help me return his phone to him? I got worried, because this was dumped on the sidewalk, I thought he may be in trouble or something. _

**_knowing him he probably dropped it while being too shitfaced to function._ **

**_gotta admit i’m impressed though. most people would’ve pocketed it by now._ **

_ I mean, it’s not much use to me with such a cracked screen haha. _

**_yeah i guess._ **

**_i don’t know about getting it back to him though. i’m in kansas right now so i’m not close by. i don’t think i can help you._ **

**_he doesn’t use social media either._ **

_ Crap. _

_ What the hell am I supposed to do with this phone then? _

**_keep it probably._ **

_ You sure there’s no other way I can reach him? _

**_i mean i can give you his email but i’m not sure he’ll respond._ **

_ I’ll take it. Thank you :) _

**_no problem :)_ **

As she looks up the bus stops, and she quickly realizes this is her stop. Throwing profanities loudly enough to wake the older man at the front of the bus, she scrambles for her things, haphazardly thrown in the seat next to her, and gets off the bus. She pats herself down, making sure she hasn’t forgotten anything as the doors of the bus shut, and starts down the road to her apartment complex.

She could probably navigate this road blind. There are many ways to reach the apartment she’s renting from the bus stop, but her favorite goes through the park. It’s a large area, full of big trees with thick foliage and leaves that brown in the fall. The paths are paved and winded, and the park benches are stained with dark wood stain and curve comfortably. She enjoys coming here in evenings she has off, watching the sun descend behind the top of the trees with a good book.

The air smells like oncoming rain now, and with headphones deep in her ears, she walks taking deep breaths and enjoying the clear atmosphere that seems so unlike the roads that surround the park. As soon as she spots the first raindrop falling from the sky, she pulls her hood over her head and smiles.

It’s minutes later, when single drops have picked up to a drizzle, that she gets a sinking feeling, her hair standing up on edge at the back of her neck, shoulders knotting closer to her ears. Someone is close to her.

With the wire pinched between her thumb and index, she pulls one earbud off and pays attention to the surrounding sounds. Sure enough there’s a second pair of footsteps behind her.

Fuck, if she gets kidnapped or attacked right now, she’s  _ fucked.  _ There are no witnesses, and at this time of night screaming for help would be futile. She checks her bag, but her paper spray is nowhere to be found.

Yeah. Definitely fucked.

Her hands go deep in her pockets, going for her phone, but as she hears the footsteps behind her picking up speed along with hers, she panics and grabs Dean’s instead. She doesn’t look for her own, there’s no time for that, so she does the first thing she thinks of.

She texts Sam.

_ I think I’m being followed. _

**_what?_ **

_ Yeah _

**_wait what’s going on? are you okay? who’s following you?_ **

_ I’m walking home from work. I can’t see who it is, but they’re definitely on my tail. _

**_how are you even typing right now??_ **

**_is there any buildings around? somewhere public to get in?_ **

_ It’s 3 am. Everything is shut and I’m in the middle of a fucking park, Sam. _

_ Fuck, I’m fucked. _

**_what are you doing at 3 am in the middle of a fucking park then?!_ **

A hand falls on her shoulder and she goes to scream, before she’s quickly spun around. Her free hand is curled in a fist, ready to fall on the attacker’s nose, when they speak.

“Y/n! I thought it was you!”

“Connor?!” She squints and pushes her hair away from her forehead, heart just about ready to fail out of the fright she’s gotten. “Fuck’s  _ sake, _ dude, what the fuck are you doing sneaking up on me in the middle of the night like this?!” Rain still falls on her, grounding her to the present, the fact she won’t have to fight for her life and corporeal integrity sinking in slowly.

Her neighbor smiles a crooked smile, watching her place a hand over her heart and taking a deep breath. His fluffy blonde hair is damp under the light rain, light green eyes glowing under the street lights. She’s so angry at him right now, she legitimately thought she was gonna die for a second there.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “I didn’t think to call out to you.” A shrug.

“It’s okay,” it’s really not, but there’s no point in staying angry at him. Besides, she figures she’ll be a little safer with him walking next to her all the way back to their apartment complex.

On the way back, they catch up. Connor is back in town after a long week and a half at his sister’s wedding. He’s in a brand new relationship with the guy he’s been pining over for like 9 months now, and he got a job at the bookstore, close to their building, he’s starting next week. He was out for a drink, he offers as an explanation, and was returning home, when he bumped into her. The park is also his favorite route to take.

The key dangles from her hands and finds a home in the lock and twists, while Y/n waves at her neighbor.

“Have a good night, Connor.”

“You too, Y/n.” It’s delivered with a wink and a bright smile.

The motions of dropping her bag by the kitchen counter, dumping the keys in the small bowl and hanging her coat on the hanger are delivered on autopilot in quick succession. Shoes toed off, hair pulled out of her lazy bun, she falls unceremoniously on her thrifted couch, feet suspended on the hand rest. Emmy must be asleep, the only lights on in the house are the fairy lights over the couch, setting a soft glow over the furniture. Y/n sighs. What a day.

Seconds before she falls asleep on the couch, a phone vibrates and it’s definitely not her own. Her eyes snap wide open, and she curses, fumbling with Dean’s device.

The messages are seven, and they all share the same panicked tone. Upon reading them, Y/n facepalms and curses, guilt weighing her down. Poor guy.

**_y/n?_ **

**_what’s going on?_ **

**_are you okay?_ **

**_y/n_ **

**_what the hell is going on._ **

**_you’re not replying._ **

**_please text me if you’re safe._ **

_ My God, Sam, I’m so sorry. _

_ It was a neighbor/friend, he sneaked up on me. _

**_you sure know how to fuck me up on a friday night._ **

_ I’m genuinely so sorry, Sam, I had no idea it was him. _

**_it’s okay_ **

**_you were scared._ **

**_i am starting to question your choice in friends though._ **

Y/n grins for the first time that day. It’s wide and full. Sam sounds like a guy she’d hang out with.

_ Hahahah yeah. _

_ I promise, Connor’s odd, but he means well. _

**_well i have to go_ **

**_but i’m glad you’re safe_ **

_ Again, I’m really sorry to make you go through that. _

**_it’s fine really._ **

_ Thank you. _

_ Goodnight :) _

**_Night :)_ **


	2. Chapter 2: overthinker

From: y/n_andrews85  
To: D_impala67  
Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

_Y/n Andrews_

-

_Do you believe me now?_

**_oh god_ **

**_you didn’t_ **

_Sure did_

**_wow. just wow._ **

**_you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!_ **

**_last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so_ **

**_he’s okay._ **

_That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe._

_I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21 st century and used social media”_

_But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?_

**_yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else._ **

_Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao._

**_oh god, no i didn’t think that_ **

**_you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?_ **

**_oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me._ **

_Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week._

**_…_ **

**_are you serious?_ **

_Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two._

_But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist._

**_ouch._ **

_Haha, I’m joking._

_Lighten up, what are you, ninety?_

**_hi pot meet kettle._ **

_Shit I walked right into that one._

**_also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though_ **

**_to answer your question i’m twenty-four._ **

_Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?_

_Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college._

_Yes, this is me fishing for information._

**_well… i kinda dropped out._ **

**_decided to go on a road trip with my brother._ **

**_things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business._ **

_Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?_

_Also, Family business? What do you do?_

_Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop._

**_you’re good._ **

**_stanford. pre-law._ **

**_and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case._ **

_Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then._

**_an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n._ **

_Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too._

**_hahahah_ **

**_so what about you?_ **

_What about me?_

**_are you in college?_ **

_Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do._

**_that’s really cool._ **

**_hey i’ve been meaning to ask._ **

_Thinking of me, Sam?_

**_…_ **

_Do tell._

**_how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?_ **

_Ooh, I was coming back from work._

_I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday._

**_oh I see. That makes sense yeah._ **

****_I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay._

_See you later, Sam :)_

**_See you, y/n :)_ **

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

–

_So_

_Do you believe in ghosts?_

**_that’s… random._ **

_May be_

**_why do you ask?_ **

_Idk, just wanna get to know you better._

**_that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?_ **

_Yes?_

_Are you avoiding the question?_

**_no_ **

**_i do. believe in ghosts._ **

**_You?_ **

_So do i._

_Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything._

**_hm?_ **

_Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves._

_In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate._

_I guess._

**_yeah I understand._ **

**_i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better._ **

_How do you mean?_

**_call it a hunch._ **

_Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that._

_Sam…?_

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

_…Sure._

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

**_hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something._ **

_It’s alright._

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

_Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?_

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

**_why do you wanna know?_ **

_I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building._

_Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao._

**_i didn’t know you sketched._ **

_Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso._

**_i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all._ **

_Yeah, may be._

_I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me._

_If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells._

**_haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho._ **

_You’ve got yourself a deal :)_

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

**_so._ **

**_what do you want me to start with?_ **

_Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face._

**_well_ **

**_i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel._ **

_Okay, that’s a start._

_What’s your nose like?_

**_it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?_ **

_Jawline?_

**_sharp? i guess?_ **

**_this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done._ **

_Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird._

_Exciting though._

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is _definitely_ overeager.

**_yeah it is._ **

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

_Eyebrows?_

**_uh_ **

**_normal?_ **

_How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?_

**_i don’t know? they’re simple i guess._ **

_Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?_

**_…_ **

_Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?_

**_i’m telling you they’re average._ **

_Sam_

**_what_ **

_You officially suck at this._

**_oh fuck off how would you describe yours?_ **

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

**_well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this._ **

**_i think it’s not a skill i mind not having._ **

_That… is a confusing sentence._

**_just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?_ **

_Oh you have no idea._

_Okay, last thing._

_Do you have a fringe?_

**_yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out._ **

_Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)_

**_no problem_ **

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

_Okay, I’m done._

**_that was quick, actually._ **

_Well I didn’t have much to go on._

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

_Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over._

_Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?_

**_no go ahead._ **

[Y/n has sent a picture]

_As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best._

**_that…_ **

**_is actually not too far from the truth_ **

**_it kind of looks like me from two years ago_ **

_wow, really?_

**_yeah._ **

**_and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job._ **

_Thank you :)_

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

**_isn’t this strange?_ **

_Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit,_ she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she _care_ so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in _years_.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

_What is?_

**_us. texting._ **

**_isn’t it a little odd?_ **

_I guess it is a bit._

_I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?_

**_yeah._ **

**_should we stop?_ **

_I don’t know_

_Do you want to?_

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

**_no_ **

_Then there’s your answer._

**_okay then_ **

**_can I save you in my contacts?_ **

_Sure, go ahead._

_I just did too._

**_alright._ **

_Okay :)_

_I’m sorry, I have to go._

_I guess I’ll text you later, Sam._

_Go be whoever Sam Something is._

**_it’s winchester._ **

_Like the shotgun?_

**_yup._ **

_That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude._

_Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews._

**_Haha thanks._ **

**_nice to meet you, too_ **

**_goodnight Y/n Andrews._ **

_Night Sam Winchester :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading :) Next chapter coming soon


	3. for the love of god, explain this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cursing and some self depreciation

Sam Winchester lies awake at three in the morning, under foreign, scratchy sheets, stubbornly not tearing his eyes from the cracked, ugly wallpaper on the ceiling. A lot of things are happening and his brain is going about a million miles an hour, spinning endlessly, Castiel, Dean returning from hell, the stress of the hunting life, the current case and… Y/n. Wonderful, smart, talented, funny Y/n.

It’s been a while since someone has made him excited. He keeps bumping into her in his mind, keeps finding thoughts of her lying around, eager to distract him. He catches himself wanting to text her about every stupid thing that happens in his day, much like she sometimes does. She’s been the only thing that makes his heart a little lighter, and it’s such a strange feeling, someone’s presence being this uplifting.

He was suspicious of her at first. A strange woman (at least she claims to be one, he forgets he’s never actually… seen her) asking about him, his profession, and then about… ghosts? A bit random, too specific, Sam recognizes he got defensive. But the way she spoke afterwards… he doesn’t know. His instinct tells him to trust her.

Amidst his thoughts, he doesn’t remember picking up his phone, but it’s just one of those nights, he needs someone to talk to- or rather, wants Y/n specifically. A thought he chooses not to dwell on.

**_are you awake? I can’t sleep._ **

_I actually am. Lucky you._

Sam smiles. _Lucky me_ , he thinks.

**_isn’t it like 4 am for you?_ **

_Tell me about it. No luck sleeping either._

**_happen to you a lot?_ **

_Yeah._

_I happen to have anxiety induced insomnia._

_Working at a bar also helps fuck up your sleeping schedule as well._

_You?_

**_i’m sorry :/_ **

**_i don’t get much sleep either. something always keeps me up._ **

_Yeah, I get that._

_Where in the Great Unites States of America are you today?_

**_hahah it’s Oregon today._ **

**_it’s the ugliest motel room i’ve ever been in._ **

_Ooh_

_Do I ask about your case or is it confidential?_

**_it’s confidential but i’ll tell you that i am investigating a bunch of strange murders._ **

_You’re investigating serial killers?? That’s so fucking dope._

**_something like that yeah._ **

**_how was your day?_ **

_Oh, you know. The usual._

_College assignments, a shift at the bar. I went out with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while._

_I need to clean my house desperately._

_I also nearly burned my kitchen down trying to cook lunch. Emmy and I ended up eating some lazy-ass spaghetti, because pasta is the only thing I can cook, apparently._

**_hahahah what were you making?_ **

_You’re gonna laugh if I tell you._

**_well now you must._ **

_Ugh, do I?_

**_come onnn_ **

_It was eggs, okay? I was just trying to make eggs._

**_AHAHAHAHAHAHAH_ **

_I TOLD YOU YOU’D LAUGH AT ME_

**_HOW DID YOU BURN EGGS?!_ **

_LISTEN, OKAY_

_I NEVER SAID I WAS A GOOD COOK_

**_HAHAHAHAH_ **

Sam laughs over his phone, as silently as he can, so as to not wake Dean up. He turns on his other side and realizes his cheeks hurt from smiling, and it’s a feeling he’s missed.

_Yeah, yeah, laugh, culinary genius. Not all of us can be perfect._

**_i never said i was a culinary genius_ **

**_but at least i don’t go near stoves if i don’t have to._ **

_Well, it’s not like I can afford every-day takeout (or like that shit is healthy, even if I could) and someone has to cook for my sister while she’s in school_

**_you have siblings?_ **

**_and yeah you’re right i didn’t think like that sorry._ **

_It’s okay._

_And yeah, my sister, Emily.” Emmy”_

**_oooh i thought emmy was your friend._ **

_Nono, it’s my sister. She’s 17._

**_can i ask you a personal question?_ **

_Shoot_

**_why do you have to take care of her? are your guys’ parents not around?_ **

**_you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with that._ **

_Well, it’s a bit complicated._

_My parents’ marriage kind of fell apart when I was around 10. They tried to fix things by adopting a kid- Emily. For a while that worked._

_When I was 16 my mom took off and dad took care of us for 2 years almost. He really dedicated himself to us._

_He worked his antique shop and supported us. For two years, I didn’t see him spend a penny on himself._

_But I ended up having to take care of Em when he passed. I was freshly 18, so I could take care of her as a guardian._

**_shit i’m so sorry._ **

_It’s okay, honestly._

_I mean, it didn’t use to be, and it was hell for a while._

_But we made it._

**_i admire your positivity._ **

_I try :)_

**_i also love that you put smiley faces in your text messages._ **

_Shouldn’t have said that, now I’ll always think about it before I do it_

**_hahah_ **

Sam bites his lip. What the hell is happening? They’re… flirting. Sorta. And it’s nice- better than nice. Fuck.

_What about you?_

**_you mean what’s my relationship with my parents?_ **

_Well, when you put it like that it sounds stupid. It wasn’t what I was asking either._

_What I meant was, how’s your life right now. How’s the family business. You can pick which you wanna answer._

**_i don’t mind either honestly._ **

**_as for my parents my mom died when I was 6 months old. my dad passed away about a year and a half ago._ **

_Jesus, I’m so sorry Sam_

_I don’t know what to say. It can’t have been easy. Losing a parent never is._

**_it wasn’t but as you said we’re trying to sort of find our footing with Dean. we’ve had our ups and downs._ **

_Yeah I understand that._

_Do you wanna talk about it?_

**_right now not really. I mean there’s not much to say about it._ **

**_i kinda wanna forget about it. thanks though._ **

_Alright._

_So how’s the family business?_

_Does it feel good to be paid to be Sherlock Holmes?_

**_crap. but we’re doing our best._ **

**_for the record i don’t get paid nearly enough for the shit i have to do._ **

_Hahaha, hang in there._

_Dean still refuses to come get his phone?_

**_yeah. he says you can keep it._ **

_Tell him to take care of his devices from now on, this one was battered beyond recognition._

**_duly noted._ **

The conversation continued until well after the sun rose. Sam had officially accepted this night to be sleepless, and Y/n was good company. Somehow she took his mind off of everything that was bugging him, made him, if momentarily, forget about it, and he truly loved that about her. The back and forth tended to flow easily between them, and he couldn’t get enough of the chemistry he had with this practical _stranger._

Sleepless or not, this night was a good one, after she entered the picture.

-

The glow on her skin is blue-ish and soft, combatting the one from the fairy lights above them. Laptop absolutely not low in volume, couch dipping under two bodies, slumped together, legs leaning against one another, soft flannel pants and droopy eyes. Emily’s hair is out of its usual half-up hairstyle, exploding with volume and bright, firey color, flowing onto the back of the couch.

Jon Snow is yelling on the screen, and Y/n is completely ignoring him, constantly checking her inactive phone and the way the screen _doesn’t_ light up with Sam’s name. Every time she feels disappointed, she tries to quell the relentless thoughts of the possibility of him being completely over her.

Damn it.

“Do you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend I’m not aware of or something?” Emily mutters dryly, half-hearted but gentle teasing. Y/n sputters.

“Huh?”

“’Cause you keep checking your phone, and as far as I know you don’t have any friends.”

“HEY,” _deeply_ offended, Y/n places her hand over her heart, glaring at her sister. “Excuse you!” she exclaims, “Connor? Ashley? Lydia?”

“Yeah, a neighbor and two college students that you haven’t talked to in like, what, two weeks? What a social butterfly.”

“Okay first off,” Y/n ignores the screaming and fighting on the screen and shifts to look at her sister. “Stop tracking my socializing.” Em scoffs.

“C’mon, bear, spill.” Bottom lip pouted. She pauses the episode, turning to face her older sister. “Who are they and when can I meet them?” A devilish smile, teasing like only a younger sister can, curling the right corner of her lip.

“He’s _not_ my boyf-“

“AHA! So there _is_ someone! I _knew_ it!”

“I’ve known him for like- what, three weeks? Nothing is going on! I barely know the guy!” Y/n fiddles with her hair and huffs, holding back a smile.

“Where’d you meet him? Is he hot? What’s he like?!” Poking her sister’s thigh continuously, she grins wide, excited. “C’ _mon_ , you’re like, no fun.”

“The thing is… I didn’t. Meet him, I mean.” Eyebrows furrow.

“Uh…” Emily purses her lips. “I’m … not following.”

It takes all of five minutes for Y/n to explain to her sister all about her crazy adventure, the lost phone, the brother, _Sam_. The girls munch on leftover garlic spaghetti, talking about the stranger on the other side of Y/n’s screen.

“He’s just… different? I don’t know- I just, I’m intrigued I guess. He’s mysterious and hilarious. The type of guy we’d hang out with. Why pass it up?”

“ _Just_ hang out?” Emily wiggles her eyebrows. Y/n shoves her.

“It’s really not like that.”

“I don’t know, Y/n, he doesn’t necessarily sound _just_ friendly to me.” Y/n won’t lie and say she hasn’t thought about it. She’s a romantic after all, and what a wonderful, movie-like love story would it be for them to fall in love and march into the sunset?

But she recognizes this is the romantic side of her picking up speed on a subject that definitely isn’t for her to decide _alone._ There’s a second participant in all of this, and he needs to do more than half the work by _liking_ her. She knows it’s no easy feat. A bitter dab of paint dissolves in her chest, because why would he like her? She’s nothing quite special. She’s just a bartender, a college student, a boring, normal girl, painfully mundane, painfully boring. He’s brilliant, kind and sweet, a _private investigator,_ he travels all the time, he’s the most interesting guy she’s ever met for crying out loud. Why would he ever give her a chance?

“I doubt it, Em,” is what Y/n decides to say, because there’s no way she can explain exactly what she’s thinking.

“No, no, you’re doing that thing again.” A hum in question falls from the older Andrews’ lips. “The thing where you put yourself down for bullshit reasons. He’d be _lucky_ to have you.” Y/n wants to roll her eyes. “Hey,” a snap of Emily’s fingers in front of Y/n’s face to catch her attention. “I will literally slap you. You’re smart, funny, _kind_. He’d be fucking lucky to have you, and if you don’t believe it, I’m gonna beat some sense into you. Stop putting my sister down.” Y/n doesn’t have anything good to say to that, so instead she lets out a huffed breath of a laugh and sits back on the couch.

“Now,” Emily leans over her own crossed legs and grabs her phone from the rickety coffee table. “Did you Google him?”

“Why the heck would I Google him?”

“It’s the 21st century, Y/n, gosh. Are you at all familiar with internet stalking?” Y/n watched pebbled coffee brown eyes get illuminated by the phone screen, freckles nowhere near as bright as they can be, because she hasn’t gone out into the sunlight today. Emily is gorgeous. Y/n is sometimes jealous, but also genuinely admires her younger sister. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

There’s typing, and then silence.

“Y/n…” And the warning tone on the younger one’s voice completely throws her off.

“What? What is it?” A phone screen is thrust in her face.

 _Mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecration, armed robbery, kidnapping, three counts of first-degree murder, and breaking and entering_ , she reads. _Winchester brothers Sam and Dean, disappeared, considered dead._

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath, completely horrified at the chance that this is real and the universe isn’t playing some comic _joke_ on her, creating another pair of Winchester brothers called Sam and Dean who, instead of chasing murderers, _are_ the murderers.

She scrolls lower and sure enough, there they are. Mug shots, but more specifically, the guy from the dating app, smouldering cheekily into the camera –a real blue steel-, holding a police station name on a black plaque, sitting at close to six feet and two. Then the younger one, less joyful and sassy, more serious and puppy-eyed. Sam. Close to what was described to her, it’s all there. Pointy nose, sharp jawline, curly brown hair with a growing, swoopy fringe, pulled behind his ears. It’s him. There’s no way, the coincidences are too many.

“Bear…” Emily stares at Y/n’s shocked face, gaze empty and out of it. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Immediately, Y/n grabs her phone.

_Sam_

His reply is instantaneous.

**_hey y/n_ **

**_i was just thinking about you_ **

**_what’s up?_ **

_Please for the love of God._

_Explain this._

She sends him the mugshot, photographed from the screen of her sister’s phone.

**_shit_.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about this chapter? How the hell will he explain this now? Let me know :)


	4. i think she's keeping ME around

_Y/n | **Sam**_

**_i know it doesn’t seem likely but i really can explain._ **

_Oh, you mean how you’ve been charged with kidnapping, GRAVE desecration (which, what the FUCK dude) and FIRST DEGREE MURDER THREE FUCKING TIMES?_

_People say we should be careful, strangers might be murderers or rapists but who would’ve fucking thought of THIS._

_I don’t know why I’m even still talking to you._

**_y/n wait give me five minutes._ **

“I just can’t fucking believe it.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back at her sister’s concerned features. “I meet one guy, _one fucking guy_ , that I like, that I enjoy talking to, and he has the worst criminal record I’ve ever fucking seen. TV shows included.”

“What’d he-“

“And it’s not like- Credit card fraud is bad, sure, but _armed robbery?_ What the fuck does grave desecration even fucking mean?!” she throws her hands in the air. “It’s not like he’s been caught with small theft or something, this- first degree _murder?_ Three times?! _”_ Y/n’s eyes well with tears, horrified at the thought she’s been talking to a possibly psychopathic serial killer for the past couple weeks. Fuck’s sake, she was dreaming of _dating_ the guy, all the while putting _herself_ down in comparison to _him_. God.

“What’d he tell you?”

Y/n looks at the multiple messages on her screen, popping up one by one, and reads them out loud.

**_y/n?_ **

**_look i’ll do my best to explain and hope you haven’t blocked me yet._ **

**_and if you don’t answer i’ll take the hint and never contact you again i promise._ **

**_the family business i told you about? yeah. my brother and i drive around the States killing monsters._ **

**_we hunt things like ghosts (remember our conversation?) vampires werewolves demons ghouls witches just about everything you can think of._ **

**_i know how ridiculous this sounds i promise and i wish i didn’t have to tell you about this part of my life but i swear to you it’s all real._ **

**_the reason why i have a mugshot roaming around the internet is because very few people know monsters exist and as you can probably tell hunting them is ugly and awful and it entails digging up graves or killing things that resemble humans._ **

**_the cops obviously don’t know about any of it they think we’re psychopaths much like you probably do._ **

“He says he hunts _monsters?!_ ” Emily’s eyebrows have skyrocketed half way up her forehead. A scoff. “ _That’s_ his excuse?!”

“Wait.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrow. The cogs in her brain strain with the effort to make sense of all of this.

“You can’t tell me you’re even remotely _considering_ it,” her younger sister states incredulously.

_You hunt demons?_

**_oh thank God._ **

**_yeah. i do._ **

_What do they look like?_

_“Dude_ ,” Emily slaps her sister’s shoulder. “What the fuck-“

“Shut up for a second.”

**_well human mostly? they possess people in the form of black smoke. they have black eyes and leave behind traces of sulfur._ **

**_not that i’m not ecstatic but why the hell are you still talking to me?_ **

_I believe you._

**_wait you do?_ **

“You _what?!”_ Emily’s voice grabs Y/n’s attention away from her screen. “Why the _hell_ do you believe him?!”

**_oh shit._ **

**_you’ve seen one haven’t you?_ **

_My dad was killed by a demon._

_I spent a lot of time with him in his antique shop, and two women with black eyes walked in one day and demanded him give them this old ass necklace that looked priceless. Dad refused because they weren’t threatening with weapons or anything. He thought they were fucking around_

_They threw him on the wall and strangled him without even touching him._

_I was hidden behind a back door._

_I found sulfur everywhere afterwards. I Googled it._

**_i’m so sorry you had to go through that_ **

**_both my parents were killed by the same demon._ **

_I guess we’re more alike than we thought._

**_i guess we are._ **

“Dude,” Emily grips Y/n’s bicep. “Are you high?!”

Y/n shakes her head. “He’s telling the truth, Em.” The younger girl’s eyes widen and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry- what?” Y/n sighs. “You’re _nuts_.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“But-“

“Yeah, I _realize_ how crazy this all looks like to you, but I swear to you, he’s telling the truth, and so am I. If you can’t trust him, then please, trust me.” Coffee brown eyes bore into hers and Y/n doesn’t drop her stare. She just waits for Emily’s reaction, knowing the girl is simply processing what’s happening.

“So you mean to tell me the thing with dad is true?” Her shoulder slump. “You’re not fucking around to like, not upset him in case he’s a psychopath or something?” Y/n’s chest is weighing about twenty pounds more than it is usually. It’s not a memory she enjoys revisiting and when she told the cops exactly what had happened, they told her she was probably in shock and had imagined everything. They chose not to explain the sulfur. “Monsters- they’re real?”

“Yeah,” Y/n nods. “Apparently? I didn’t know about the rest of them to be honest.

I know how crazy it sounds. But I was there, when dad died, and I know what I saw.” She knows she’s right. Every time the memory resurfaces, Y/n sees the same thing, knows for a fact the women were standing near the entrance of the shop, across which dad was tossed. The impact from his body, an impact that required superhuman strength, shattered one of his glass displays inside the shop into millions of crystal shards. Y/n tried not to scream while watching her dad glance toward her and turn all shades of blue, eventually falling limp and no longer struggling mid-air.

She knows what she saw. The women never touched her father, yet he was hurled around like a ragdoll and killed effortlessly.

Emily is silent.

“Please don’t think I’m crazy. I have no other reason to believe this kid.” Eyebrows stitched together, pursed pink lips thoughtfully caged between her teeth, Emily breathes out loudly.

“I, uh,” She licks her lips. “I’m not… invalidating your experience,” _bless her_ , Y/n thinks. _Bless her for being such a kind, incredible sister. I’m so lucky._ She could’ve scoffed and called her crazy. And here she is, even without believing her, reassuring that she’s willing to listen.“But you have to understand, this is difficult for me to believe.” Words carefully picked and offered. She’s not shutting the door. Y/n couldn’t ask for anything more.

“I do. Understand.” The eldest sister toys with the strings of her sweatpants. “And if you want to talk about it, we can.” Emily shuts her eyes.

“I don’t really uh…” a hand running through her hair. “I don’t really think I can handle that conversation right now.” Y/n nods. “I uhm,” a second of silence. “I trust you though.”

“Okay,” she reassures, “Thank you.” Her instinct wants to lay a hand on her sister’s knee in comfort, but Emily isn’t a particularly affectionate person, so she chooses not to. “Do you want to… stay here? Keep watching Game of Thrones?” Emily, as if reminded of what they had been doing, looks up at the screen, Jon Snow’s screaming face zoomed in and bloody, sitting still on their small laptop. She breathes out.

“Yeah okay.”

Y/n thinks they’re done talking for tonight. She sits back and lets her sister press play on the episode, then stiffly try to relax back on the couch. There’s a blanket of awkwardness, another layer of thick tension that lays around them. But then Emily speaks one last time. “At least John Snow’s still hot,” she sighs and Y/n barks out a loud laugh. Yeah. They’re gonna be alright.

-

**_so we’re okay, right?_ **

The text feels _heavy._ When the girls restarted watching the episode from where they’d left off, Y/n chose to ignore her phone completely, not allowing the subject to continue at all and giving her sister space from it. But now, under her covers, alone and in absolute silence, Y/n can’t seem to ignore it.

Demons? Sure, she’s seen them, she’s had time to digest it. But there’s so much more to it, so many supernatural beings out there, and it feels akin, to discovering a new genre of music; completely overwhelming. Where does she start? Does she even want to know about it? Does she get involved? It feels selfish to idly sit around, being one of the few people that are aware, while people die by this unknown threat.

And what happens with Sam? _Are_ they okay? Why does she so badly want to say yes? A normal person would’ve run for the hills. Whether or not supernatural beings actually existed, does she _really_ want to get involved with that world? It sounds so dangerous.

She hasn’t known Sam for long. There’s no harm in giving him another chance, right? He doesn’t know much about her, so theoretically she can walk away unscathed at any point at all. That thought comforts her enough to reply to him.

_Yeah, we’re good._

His reply is so fast, and her heart gives a little flutter.

**_i’m really glad._ **

**_you didn’t reply and i thought you decided i’m crazy after all._ **

**_not that i’d blame you for that i’m still surprised you’re sticking around._ **

_Yeah. Sorry about that, I had to talk some things through with my sister._

_We watched Game of Thrones afterwards, and I turned off my phone._

**_no no it’s okay._ **

**_i have a confession to make._ **

_I don’t know how many confessions I can handle tonight Sam. Does it have anything to do with the supernatural or any criminal activity at all?_

**_hahah no not even close._ **

**_i just wanted to say i’m genuinely so glad you chose not to. stop talking to me i mean. right now talking to you has been the happiest part of my life._ **

Y/n damn near gasps. Her chest feels inflated, butterflies flapping wildly inside her. Stupid sweet talker, he’s got her wrapped around his finger.

**_i just_ **

**_i forget how everything is falling apart around me when i talk to you._ **

**_and now that you know the truth about my… job i don’t have to lie to you either. i can be myself. that’s a welcome change._ **

_I get that._

_I can be myself around you too. You’re a bit like_

_A welcome break from this awful, stupid fast pace my life has. I genuinely need that._

_:)_

**_:)_ **

They’re okay. Right? It feels like it. Her head hurts, but she wants to talk to him more. Pretend everything’s okay, pretend nothing’s happened.

_So._

_Whatcha up to._

**_research_ **

_?_

**_my idiot brother got involved in something._ **

**_i’m trying to figure it out._ **

_Supernatural something or just something?_

**_supernatural something._ **

_Ah._

_Well thank God your daily entertainment is here to save the day._

**_what a blessing._ **

_Aww, Sam, knew you had the hots for me ;)_

**_don’t be so full of yourself Daily Entertainment._ **

_You’re hilarious._

**_i know._ ** ****

Some time passes.

_Hey, Sam?_

**_yeah?_ **

_Tell me more about you?_

**_hang on i need a moment of introspection. a guy’s gotta prepare his speech._ **

_Again. Hilarious._

**_again. i know._ **

_Go on, old man. Stop stalling, I need to hear that speech._

**_…_ **

_Oh I’m sorry, is Sam Winchester offended?_

**_do you wanna hear the damn speech?_ **

_Haha yeah, please, be my guest._

This feels good, familiar. In such a short amount of time, Sam has left a taste in her mouth, and it’s honey-like and sweet. This banter reminds her he hasn’t changed; it’s still the same person she’s been talking to, the same guy.

**_well i’m sam winchester. my pre-law studies failed miserably. i haven’t slept in the same bed twice in like a month. currently my life can only be described as a train wreck. oh and i have a brother Dean whom you’re painfully aware of and is certainly not trying to stop being a pain in my ass._ **

**_am i forgetting anything?_ **

**_oh yes of course. i’m talking to this really sweet girl who’s made my life a little less shitty._ **

A line has been crossed tonight. Sam feels it and so does she. And it doesn’t seem like either are willing to go back. Y/n’s nerves are being held taught, breath caught in the back of her throat, and every time he compliments her, she breathes a little shallower.

_Damn, she sounds like a catch. Maybe you should keep her around._

**_i think she’s keeping ME around._ **

**_what about you? have you prepared a speech?_ **

_No but I’m relatively okay at improv._

**_oh well i’m listening then._ **

_Well I’m Y/n Andrews. My life’s a different kind of wreck. My job is painfully boring, college is frustrating as all hell, and expensive enough that I’m considering dropping out. And I’m also talking to this guy that travels a lot and has to do really hard and scary things, from what I hear. He also talks very highly of me, which I genuinely don’t understand._

**_y/n, you’re amazing you know that?_ **

_So you keep telling me_

**_well it’s true._ **

**_listen Dean’s back. i really have to go. sorry_ **

_Don’t worry, I should catch some sleep anyways._

_We’ll talk tomorrow?_

**_of course_ **

_Goodnight Sam :)_

**_sleep tight Y/n :)_ **


End file.
